


Jonny D'therapy

by zinabug



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Brian gives the therapy, Crying, Emotions, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Jonny has too many feelings and he has zero coping mechanisms besides murder, Painting, Therapy, jonny d'therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23807128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinabug/pseuds/zinabug
Summary: drumbot Brian attempts to give jonny therapy, because, as we all know. he really really needs it and it goes... interesting?
Relationships: Drumbot Brian & Jonny d'Ville
Comments: 33
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

Drumbot Brian was standing outside of Jonny’s quarters. 

He wasn’t going to knock. Normally, that would mean a bullet to the chest, but Jonny’s weapons were all hidden in a supply closet. The Aurora was helping him get Jonny what he really needed:  _ therapy. _

Brian had a degree and everything. He’d gotten his diploma and he’d killed the professor - that's how it worked, right? He didn’t know, but there was a degree on his wall now. 

He pushed the door open. 

“FUCK OFF!” Jonny yelled from inside. 

“Hello Jonny, how are you doing today?” Brian dodged a thrown shoe. 

“I said,  _ fuck off.”  _ Jonny was sitting on top of his dresser smoking a cigarette. His hand reached down next to him where he normally would have a gun, finding nothing. “Where the fuck is my gun?” 

Brian smiled pleasantly at him as he frantically shuffled through his belongings looking for a weapon. That lasted about ten minutes before Jonny threw his other shoe at him. 

“Where are my weapons.” Jonny’s voice was cold and deadly. 

“Well, this isn’t going to go well if you shoot me, is it.” Brian said, calmly. 

“WHAT ISN’T GOING TO GO WELL?” Jonny snarled. 

“Your therapy.” 

“No.” Jonny looked around, probably for more shoes to throw at Brian. 

“Yes.” Brian sighed. “You need to talk about your feelings, and have better coping mechanisms then murder.” 

“Murder works! I just kill people and then somebody kills me and I don’t have to think about anything because I’m dead.” Jonny picked up a belt and threw it at Brian. It missed by a mile. 

“That’s not healthy, Jonny. Have you considered taking up painting?” 

Jonny stared at Brian, mouth agape. “I’m sorry, what the  _ fuck. _ I am not going to- to-  _ talk about my feelings.  _ I am not going to  _ paint _ .”

“Yes, you are.” Brian smiled. “I can stay here as long as I need, but you are going to talk about your feelings.” 

“I am  _ not.”  _ Jonny sat down on his bed and glared at Brian. 

“I mean, I have forever.” Brain smiled. “May I sit?” 

“No.” 

“Wonderful.” Brian grabbed a stool from under Jonny’s desk and pushed a couple belts off it before sitting down. Jonny gave him the finger. 

The two of them stared at each other in silence. It was silent for a very long time. 

“So. how are you doing this morning?” Brian asked after a minute. Jonny just glared at him in silence. 

“I don’t actually think it’s morning anymore.” Brian added as an afterthought. “We’ve been sitting here for a while.” 

Jonny just glared at him. Jonny just glared at him for a very long time. It was definitely more than a day, quite possibly more than a week. Through the whole time, Brian would periodically ask Jonny questions and get no response other than a middle finger or more silent glaring. Brian was quite tired of silent glaring by the time Jonny snapped. 

He flung himself off his bed at Brian, trying to stab him with a pen. Of course, you can’t stab through brass with a pen, even if you are as determined, angry and stupid as Jonny D’ville. 

Jonny gave up after the pen broke. Brian had ink all over his white shirt. 

“That was rude of you.” Brian said, calmly. 

“Stop. being. So. calm.” Jonny snarled. 

“Do you want to talk about your feelings now?” Brian asked. 

“NO!” Jonny yelled. 

Brian stared at him for several minutes. 

Jonny mumbled something unintelligible. 

“What was that?” Brian asked. 

“Maybe.” Jonny said quietly. 

“So, once again, how are you feeling this morning?” Brain asked. 

Jonny scuffed his foot against the floor. He was chewing on the inside of his lip. Brian was suddenly struck by  _ how young  _ Jonny actually was. 

“Angry. I’m angry I’m always  _ fucking angry.”  _

“What are you angry about?” Brian asked. 

“One  _ fucking  _ guess.” Jonny rubbed his chest. “I’ve been angry for  _ millennia _ .” 

Brian was at peace with his mechanization. He still hurt, and it wasn’t pleasant, but he had fallen into a vague state of calm about most things over the years. He wasn’t quite sure if he forgave Carmilla, but he certainly wasn’t angry anymore. 

“Angry at Carmilla?” Brian asked, carefully. 

Jonny visibly started and hunched over himself. “Of course. She did this- this  _ shit  _ to us. You aren’t angry?” 

Brian shrugged. 

Jonny snorted in disgust. 

The room was silent again, Jony scowling at the floor and rubbing his chest. 

“Fuck this.” Jonny’s voice cracked badly. He took a shuddering breath. “Talking about my feelings is just making me more upset. How the fuck is it supposed to help me? how?” 

Brian opened his mouth, and shut it again. He didn’t want to be belt-murdered or something and he wasn’t sure how to answer. 

Jonny sniffed. Brian glanced over at him. Was he… crying? Jonny was definitely crying. 

“Jonny?” Brian asked. 

Jonny shoved him in the chest and turned away. It wasn’t a hard shove, it didn't even cause Brian to step back. He made a quiet, choked sound, a sob. 

“Fuck off.” Jonny stammered. He was full on sobbing now. 

Brian stepped forward and hugged Jonny. He was like a startled cat, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. Jonny wound up with pen ink on his face, not that it changed much. He always looked like he lost a fight with some eyeliner. 

He eventually managed to ooze his way out of Brian’s hug and into a puddle of sobbing and belts on the floor. 

Brian stiffly sat down cross legged on the floor next to him. Jonny wasn’t talking about his feeling anymore, but he was dealing with them in a way other than murder. Brain decided that was a good thing and let him. 

It was definitely more than a day that Jonny was crying on the floor. Brian sat and tapped his fingers on the floor and waited for him to calm down. 

Jonny eventually looked up at Brian, eyeliner extra all over his face. He looked awful. 

“Maybe I should take up painting.” Jonny croaked. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jonny does take up painting

Jonny stared at the large, blank canvas in front of him. 

He didn’t know what to paint. 

He had several large buckets of paint of various random colors that he had stolen and a bunch of canvases and brushes and an empty room in the aurora. 

Nobody knew but Brian. He would have never been able to live it down if the others knew. 

Jonny snorted and picked up a bucket of red paint. He stared at it for a few minutes before throwing in in the direction of the canvas. Stupid fucking paintings. Stupid fucking Brian. 

It splattered across the canvas in a wide arc that he decided he liked after a few minutes of staring. 

He grinned and watched it drip down the canvas onto the floor. It looked like blood. 

He grabbed the black and white paint bucket and a large paintbrush, dipping it in both buckets and smacking the brush back and forth on the canvas, along the edge of the red swath. 

The sound of the brush hitting the canvas and the splatters of paint across his face was oddly soothing. 

He decided he didn’t like it. Well, he did, but he  _ decided _ he didn’t. Jonny dipped the brush in both buckets again and sharply dashed the canvas with the brush, leaving clear brushstrokes. He decided he liked the random patterns and their streaks of red towards the bottom. It was messy. 

He stepped back to look at it and nodded. Then he pulled out his gun and trailed a line of gunshots across the canvas. 

_ Perfect.  _

Jonny stapled the third belt to the large messy painting of a harmonica, in several neon colors. It was horrible. He decided he liked it and added another staple. 

Just about everything Jonny did was big and messy, just like his paintings. He liked it that way. Messy and big and loud. 

It was his fourth painting he’d done that… day? Week? He wasn’t sure anymore.

The first one, with its wide swath of red and grey streaks. 

The second one, red and gold dots and splotches on a canvas he’d painted mostly black with some grey bits in there, leftover white paint from the first one. He’d dipped his paintbrush in red and gold and waved it at the direction of the canvas. 

The third one was of an exploding planet. He’d added the aurora in the background and a tiny silhouette flipping the viewer of the painting off for good measure. 

The one he was just finishing was a painting of a technicolor harmonica with several belts stapled to it. He’d stolen the staple gun from Nastya and one of the belts from Marius. 

Jonny liked stealing things. It was fun, especially when the people noticed he’d stolen something. Although, he normally killed them first. 

He added another staple to the belt, completely unnecessarily at this point. He was just having a good time with the staple gun at that point. 

“Jonny? You did take up painting?” 

Jonny whipped around, pointing his staple gun at Brian, standing in the doorway. He was looking confused and holding a box labeled “ _ machine parts for Nastya _ ” in Raph’s handwriting.

“What's it to you?” Jonny snapped, suspicious that Brian was going to make him talk about his feelings again. 

Jonny glared at Brian, who passively looked back. 

“May I paint with you?” Brian asked after a disappointingly short couple of minutes. 

“ _ I _ don’t give a fuck.” Jonny said, turning away from Brian and adding a few more staples in the canvas. 

Brian nodded, set down the box, and picked up a smaller canvas from the floor. Jonny determinedly ignored him and continued working on his own painting, adding yet more staples. He was going to be out soon, and he realized he had no idea how to actually refill a staple gun. 

Brian was humming, and Jonny realized that he had been harmonizing without noticing. He instantly stopped and stapled the last staple into the canvas. 

Brian glanced over. “Very nice.” 

Jonny flipped him off and dragged another canvas over. He picked up another bucket of paint, black again, and tossed it on the canvas. Brian startled slightly, but Jonny ignored him and started spreading the black paint around with a large brush and his hands. 

He was absolutely covered in paint, a mess. He liked the mess. 

Jonny grabbed another can of paint, not bothering to look at the color, and dipped his hand in. 

He trailed electric blue handprints across the canvas while Brian carefully added small details to a painting of his hat surrounded by flowers. 

He grabbed another paint can, of bright red, and dipped his hand in, putting more handprints and some swirly doodles. Brian was humming again, and Jonny decided to hum louder over him while he finger painted weapons and music notes on the canvas. 

He had just finished drawing a gun shooting a bundle of music noted when someone spoke up from the doorway. 

“Well, what do we have here?” 

Jonny spun around, angry at his painting being interrupted for the  _ second time _ to see Nastya standing in the doorway holding the box Brian had been holding. 

“Painting.” Brian said, adding another brush stroke to a flower petal. 

Nastya nodded and watched them as Jonny slapped a couple more blue and red mixed handprints onto his canvas. He decided to ignore her while he worked and started finger painting a treble clef. 

“Mind if I join you?” she asked after a minute. 

Brian nodded, and Jonny just snorted. They were just having a crew wide painting party at this point. 

She took a tiny canvas and a small brush, and sat down against the wall to work on something small, silver and dark blue. 

The three of them painted in silence for a while. Jonny did some more finger painted doodles while Brain carefully added details onto the hat he was painting. 

The room was quiet except for the hum of the aurora, the three of them focused on their paintings. 

Jonny slapped two more handprints on his canvas. Maybe the rest of the crew should take up painting. Might do them all good. 


End file.
